ST. PATRICK 7s. D.

A. S. SULLIVAN

नै

He is gone;

2

eye of men Follows not, nor

angel's ken; Through the veils of time and space,

DORT 6s, 4s.

L. MASON

many

OUR Lord is risen from the dead,
Our Jesus is gone up on high;
The powers of hell are captive led,
Dragged to the portals of the sky.

2 There His triumphal chariot waits,

And angels chant the solemn lay:"Lift up your heads, ye heavenly gates, Ye everlasting doors, give way.

3 "Loose all your bars of massy light, And wide unfold the ethereal scene; He claims these mansions as His right; Receive the King of glory in."

4 "Who is this King of glory, who?" "The Lord that all His foes o'ercame; The world, sin, death, and hell o'erthrew; And Jesus is the conqueror's name." 5 Lo, His triumphal chariot waits,

302

O SAVIOUR, who for man hast trod
The winepress of the wrath of God
Ascend, and claim again on high
Thy glory, left for us to die.

2 A radiant cloud is now Thy seat,
And earth lies stretched beneath Thy feet;
Ten thousand thousands round Thee sing,
And share the triumph of their King.
3 The angel-host enraptured waits:
"Lift up your heads, eternal gates!"
O God and Man! the Father's throne

Is now, for evermore, Thine own.

4 Our great High-Priest and Shepherd, Thou
Within the veil art entered now,
To offer there Thy precious blood,
Once poured on earth a cleansing flood.
5 And thence the Church, Thy chosen bride,
With countless gifts of grace supplied,
Through all her members draws from Thee
Her hidden life of sanctity.

6 O Christ, our Lord, of Thy dear care
Thy lowly members heavenward bear;
Be ours with Thee to suffer pain,
With Thee for evermore to reign.

Charles Coffin 1736 Tr. by John Chandler 1837

COLDREY P. M.

"Who

H. SMART

dom, Trav'ling thus from Bozrah's side,

one to save!"

303

"WHO is this, with garments dyed, This that comes from Edom, Trav'ling thus from Bozrah's side, In the might of freedom?" "I, the Conqueror o'er the grave, I, the mighty One to save!" 2 "Why is Thine apparel red,

Stains of blood bespeaking, Why Thy robe as theirs that tread In the wine-press, reeking With the juice of grape, say why Such strange garb of victory?" 3 "I have trodden all alone,

This world's wine-press ample, And I wondered of mine own

ROTHWELL L. M.

None the foe could trample!
Rescue then my vengeance brought,
Mine own arm salvation wrought."
4 Yes! Thy secret, Lord, is known,
Whence Thy red-dyed raiment!
Not Thy foeman's blood-Thine own,
Lavished for the payment

Of the debt none else could pay,

Guilt none else could wash away!
5 Lord! though erring from Thy grace,
Though our hearts be hardened,
Grant Thine exiled sons a place
In Thy city, pardoned!

There to meet-life's warfare done-
Thy true Godhead, Three in One!

Edward Arthur Dayman 1866